


childhood memories and hazy dreams

by kiteflower



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: idk what i'm doing idk how to work this site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-20
Updated: 2013-09-20
Packaged: 2017-12-27 02:27:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/973193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiteflower/pseuds/kiteflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>where Takao comes to see the world - more of it and more clearly - through different eyes, and grows up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	childhood memories and hazy dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tokumeisan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tokumeisan/gifts).



On the stuffy nights he has spent at his grandmother's house - the one that he'd always visited during summertime until he started middle school - he'd always drag his futon out onto the veranda to admire the stars that are usually hidden by lights in the city. He likes sitting there alone without honks of distant cars or the laughter of university students and white-collars still on the streets.

But tonight, a man approaches him, a stranger whom he doesn't recognize. However, Takao doesn't feel alerted at all, mind jumbled in a sleepy state as he dangles his legs from the porch's edge.

When he nears, Takao realizes that the man is actually a boy, but he's a giant in the way that all older kids are giants to young children. When his silhouette casts a shadow over him, he really looks and sees that the boy is like a creature straight out of a storybook. His eyes have a iridescent glow to it - as does his whole being - but it's such a beautiful green that Takao cannot, _cannot_ tear his gaze away.

"Who are you?" Takao breathes, trying to see through the haze to the boy's eyes. It reminds him of a foggy morning in the forest.

"I'm a spirit," the boy says, quite bluntly. Unseen fingers tug at green strands of hair, and it reminds him of grass swaying in the breeze. The refreshing brush of the wind across his cheeks wakes Takao up a bit. "To put it simply, that is."

Takao blinks at the concept. "Are you a ghost?"

The boy wrinkles his nose in disdain, and Takao is sure that he is something out of a fairy tale. He's like an incarnation of the moon, only he gives off his own light. "Don't be stupid. I'm not dead. You most likely wouldn't understand, but I'm a part of something bigger. I depend on another existence to exist, though like I just told you, it'd be easier to think of me as a spirit."

"A spirit?"

"A spirit, yes."

"A spirit." Takao trails his eyes up and down his body, curious as to if he's touchable. He's a bit translucent, now that he can observe the boy up close, and Takao thinks that maybe he would feel like a window pane, smooth and cold against his fingertips. "Can I touch you?"

The boy steps back. "No, that's not a good idea-"

Takao reaches forward anyways, the nerves under his skin tingling with excitement, but when his hand is millimeters away from the boy's face, there's a strange moment of disorientation where he can't differentiate between the sky and the ground, forgets where left and right is. Some kind of invisible force pushes him into the boy's chest, but all he can think of as he plunges through nothingness is how soothing the wind brushing against his fingers is. 

.

.

.

.

They're amazing, and Takao's not surprised - they're Teikou, after all.

"The regulars this time around have apparently been regulars starting from their very first year. Teikou's always been one of the strongest, but they have some pretty freakish geniuses this year, damn," the bench warmer says as he hands Takao a towel. "You were great, though. Passing and dribbling was top-notch today."

People said he had a gift in ball handling and knowing the movement of others on the court, and he believes it; though when compared to Teikou, he might as well not, because he isn't even worth being compared with them. Talent is talent, as insane as it is, but when Takao sweeps his gaze over the starters, he can tell there's something off, even with the eyes that's only been used to analyze and not used to seek out the stirring of emotions deep within.

(Looking at them makes him feel sad. Just a little, as if he's feeling a tidbit of its real weight.)

He flinches when he finds their shooting guard looking at him as well. For a fraction of a second, their eyes meet - only Midorima looks away just as quickly and Takao lingers.

It's just a glance, but it brings back memories of carefree lounging and watermelon slices and furin bells chiming in the wind and splashes of cool water and the synchronized singing of cicadas. Takao shakes his head and turns away.

.

.

.

.

The boy is sitting beside him cross-legged on the grass as Takao drags his own legs through the pond water, watching the ripples glide across its surface. He looks in at his reflection, and a mirror of his six year old self looks back.

Takao turns to the boy and starts as he realizes that the other's fingers are searchingly probing those intangible sockets of his, and eventually holds something out to Takao. He resists gagging at the notion that he had just gouged out his eyes, but when he looks down at the boy's palms, there are two beautiful emerald jewels, glistening through a whitish haze.

"Are those...?" Takao extends his own hands out, and the gems tumble into his hold. They're ice cold, but emits a strange warmth where it makes him feel sweetly pleasant down to the bones. It's unexpected and peculiar, but he welcomes it.

Takao strokes its unblemished surfaces admiringly, forgets his disgust from seconds earlier. The water he's dangling his feet in no longer has an edge, has no boundary, seeps into his skin, becomes a part of his body. A replica of his hands reflects back from the still water, but there's none of the enchanting glow being cast from his palm in this image. 

"For you," the boy says - charmingly, if not for his permanently stoic demeanor. (Though Takao would've liked to think that the neutral line of his lips had quirked up into a small smile.) "They're yours now."

He feels like the stars above his head are spinning into dazzling streaks of light when he finally gets around to asking, "what about you? How do you see? I mean, you just gave your eyes to me."

"I explained it before, didn't I? That I'm not my own existence. Giving away these eyes is like giving away a part of the entire existence that I'm only a small bit of. I'm not giving away all of it," the boy sounds exasperated, probably for a good reason, but Takao still doesn't quite get it.

"Okay..." Takao replies, voice lilting up so that it ends up like an inquiry. The other boy sighs, takes the stones back into his hands, and raises it to Takao's eyes.

"I'm going to put it in now, alright?" The boy tells him, like a doctor dealing with a frightened child, and he nods, eyelids fluttering shut. His heart is threatening to burst through his chest cavity, and then there's a weird sensation of eye drops being instilled, only that's not possible because his eyes are closed tightly.

"Sorry," the boy mutters. _Sorry for what?_   Takao wanted to ask. It's not like it hurt or anything.

When he opens his eyes, the world still looks the same - maybe a tiny bit clearer - but Takao distinctively knows something is wrong.

"Mr. Spirit, I feel kinda sad," he says.

"Yes."

"Like, _sad_ ," Takao insists. "It kinda hurts."

"I know."

"Why?"

They sit in relative silence for some time, save for the periodic choruses of cicadas, the breeze caressing Takao's skin and it curls up to lift the green-haired boy's locks into the air. He watches them dance, radiant and green, a weird contrast against the night sky - and it's captivating.

He decides to change the topic. "So...can you see me right now?" The question threads through the quiet, fills it with his voice.

"I can see you," the boy affirms, "although I can't see your face."

Takao blinks. "My grandma and my dad has that problem too! Wait here."

He stands, his legs a bit wobbly after who-knows-how-long of sitting there. The boy doesn't object when he tears off in the direction of the house. He digs through his grandmother's drawers, hurriedly pushing aside miscellaneous items like knitting needles and missing buttons from old shirts, and he finally finds what he's looking for.

When Takao gets back to the pond, the boy is waiting for him. Takao holds up a pair of glasses from his father's childhood days.

"What do you intend to do with that?" The boy says flatly, with a subtle undertone of accusation. Takao doesn't know why.

He grins cheekily, and standing on tiptoes (he's shorter than the boy even when the other is sitting), places the pair of glasses so that it perches a perfectly upon the bridge of the boy's nose. "Can you see me now?"

The boy squints at him, as if scrutinizing a new face. "Surprisingly, yes. Everything looks a bit different, though."

He feels like he's straining his facial muscles beyond what they're capable of expressing when he widens his smile, but the boy's demeanor remains blank. "I knew it'd work. It's like I gave you another pair of eyes!"

Takao settles down again, swinging his legs back into the pond water and he yawns, rubs at his eyes to clear his vision. His body feels heavy, as if his clothes are drenched and weighing him down, but he isn't sure if it's from sleepiness.

"Why did you give me your eyes, though?" He asks, a little blearily. "I mean, my eyes were fine."

"...because you'll need it." The boy clears his throat, turning his head away from Takao. "There are lots of eyes out there. You can't live all your life just looking through one pair."

The moon washes everything over with a silvery tint, and it's as quiet as it can get when the cicadas' songs fade out. A warm breeze rustles some bush leaves, and right before Takao's about to drift off to sleep, the boy shifts to stand up.

"I have to go now," the boy states, hands moving up to adjust the glasses, the movement already so natural as if that pair of glasses were always a part of him.

Takao stumbles to stand too, but he still has to crane his neck to look at the boy in the eyes. All he can see, though, is that strange haze from before, hiding whatever it is behind it.

"Will we meet again?" Takao asks, not bothering to conceal the hope in his tone. That same subtle sadness from before creeps in again, squeezing his lungs and hitching up his breath, making him more aware of the heaviness in his limbs.

The boy shrugs, almost nonchalantly, and Takao dips his head to stare at the grass, the deep green of summer. Out of his peripherals, he sees the sky in the pool of water, and sees something flash across the sky in its reflection. When he tilts his gaze upwards, there's a rain of shooting stars, searing across black.

"But," at the boy's voice, Takao looks at him, and he sees the other's expression soften ever so slightly. "I might be closer than you think."

.

.

.

.

Takao looks into his eyes, and he looks back.

(His irises are viridian, clear and beautiful, framed by long lashes and eerily familiar glasses, and Takao thinks that he can gaze into it forever.)

"Who are you?"

(His eyes are cold, giving his glare an icy quality; but somewhere underneath - and Takao can see it at first glance - there is a kind soul purposefully hidden away at a depth that most wouldn't bother to find.)

"Takao Kazunari," he answers, and grins. "I know who you are. You're Midorima Shintarou."

"Takao Kazunari." Midorima repeats, and he creases his brows.

(Hearing his name makes him feel all warm and pleasant inside.)

Takao tightens his grip on the basketball he's holding, and his mind wanders back to their match last year in middle school. He wonders if Midorima remembers such a trivial victory out of so many. He watches Midorima stare at nothing particular in the distance, and watches his glower dissipate until it leaves a small frown behind.

Nostalgia swathes Takao like a soft blanket, gentle but insistent, when Midorima finally says, "it's strange. I feel as if I've met you before."

**Author's Note:**

> ahAHA *lies on side and faces the wall* well, i hope i fulfilled a good amount of your request and i hope you liked reading it ;-; (i feel like it's really confusing and it probably is because my thoughts never make sense to other people orz) but it was pretty fun haha it's a bit ooc in this one though bleh


End file.
